The Dark Room
by RobbieChanie
Summary: Post-Kisangani fic, Carter comes back to Abby. Please R/R.


Author's Note: Just a disclaimer, we don't own these characters or the show, and there's a part of this story blatantly copied from a Buffy the Vampire Slayer scene between Willow and Tara, which we also do not own. Enjoy, and please review!

The Dark Room

The night seemed so quiet and serene for such a big city. The effect was almost soothing with the gentle hum of the taxi, and the sound of the El in the distance. City sounds, something he had never noticed before, but realized now that he had missed. 

He stepped into the dark of her apartment, moving slowly as to let his eyes adjust. He came to her door and stared into the room.

There she was. 

There she was, buried amongst the covers. Her body rose slowly up and down, taking in a breath, and letting it out, over and over again. Her bare shoulder peeked out from the cover, her soft skin glinting in the moonlight that poked in from the window. The sheer sight of her soothed him, and he felt at peace. There was a stray piece of hair that covered the side of her face and he brushed it away. He leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, and then lowered himself to the bed. 

He sat there for a long time, watching her sleep. It was 2:00 A.M. He was exhausted both physically and emotionally, but he couldn't bring himself to let go of what he had at that moment. He was with the woman he loved, in the dark room, on the quiet street, and he didn't want or need to be anywhere else. How come he hadn't allowed himself more moments like these?

"John?"

He jerked, startled to hear her voice come out of nowhere. She hadn't stirred when she had awoken, whenever that had been. 

"John?" She asked again, her voice huskier than normal, ridden with sleepiness. 

"Yeah. I'm here."

She left her spot on the pillow and enveloped him in a hug. 

"How long have you been here?"

"Almost an hour."

"You should have waken me."

He smiled softly. "I didn't want to."

"When did you get back?" She asked.

"A couple hours ago."

They sat, and a silence descended between them.

"You know ... Things fall apart. They fall apart so hard."

She stared up at him through the dark, trying to decipher the expression on his face. 

"You can't ever ..." He sighed plaintively. "... put them back the way they were."

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"I'm sorry, it's just ... You know, it takes time. You can't just ... have coffee and expect-"  


"I know."

"There's just so much to work through. Trust has to be built again, on both sides ... You have to learn if ... if we're even the same people we were, if you can fit in each other's lives."

She nodded, keeping her head down. 

"It's a long... important process, and ... can we just skip it? Can we work that out later? Can I just be holding you now?"

She lifted her head and nodded. "I'd like that."

There was a moment of silence, thick with tension; with unbridled passion, with unrequited love, with an intense need to be together, to be helplessly enveloped in each other, to be totally and completely immersed by love. 

And then, for the first time in weeks, their eyes met; mingled for a moment, testing out the waters, letting the old feelings bubble to the surface, and melted into each other.

She cracked a wry, sleepy smile, and broke the gaze, focusing her eyes on something - anything to get a hold of the situation. To make sense of the flurry of emotions surging through her. He reached out with a finger, and like before, ran it gently along the side of her chin. Inwardly, she shivered with delight. Outwardly, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. A touch she'd not felt since their entire ordeal began, and yet, a touch she'd never forgotten, and longed for each passing second they'd been apart. Then, like the flurry of emotions between them, and the electric current waiting to explode from their close proximity, she lost all control of herself, and fell into his arms. 

He cradled her to his chest, absorbing himself in her; running his hands through her hair, drinking in the smell of her shampoo in her hair - the smell that was uniquely her. The smell that was intoxicating, that had plagued him as it lingered in his nose like a word on the tip of his tongue that he just couldn't remember. But oh, had he felt her in his absence; felt her arms snaking around his neck in the murky darkness of the night; felt her hot breath on his chest, felt her soft fingers, her full warm lips probing him, killing him softly. 

Her touch was like fire, as she suddenly erupted in his arms in a flurry of moment. And suddenly, her lips were on his, bleeding the unrequited passion of the last couple of weeks. Her hot breath came in fevered pants, her soft touch covered him in everything he craved. And he reciprocated, running his hands along the curves he knew so well and meshing his lips with hers in a loving caress. 

So familiar, and yet so new; the explosions of colour, the new sensations. It was like it had been at the beginning, beautiful and unique, before family had made an appearance. That time when everything was an experience and nothing fazed them; when they would lie in bed and make love over and over and again, and then just look at each other because they could. Because they – the manifestation of Carter and Abby, the common entity, the couple, the "us" had finally come into fruition. And then, that had been enough. 

And now, somehow, in the swirling whirlwind of wild mothers looking for lost brothers, fathers smarting over blows imparted by departed mothers, mothers missing in action, mothers who weren't real mothers but were more than real mothers had ever been unexpectedly leaving and the pain and confusion it had all brought, their "us" wasn't enough any more. And they both did things they shouldn't have done, and said things they shouldn't have said, meant to say and do things that were never said and done, and generally created a situation beyond mending. Suddenly, the centre of all things beautiful and right couldn't hold, things were falling apart. 

It took tragedy to make him see the light, so to speak. Took seeing a man who watched his partner in life suffer and finally come to a tragic and painful end from the effects of a debilitating disease because they couldn't afford a treatment to cure her to make him realize how lucky he was to live in such affluence that treatment was not an object of price or availability. Took seeing that man cradle his wife to his breast and whisper last words of love into her ear to realize how much he missed being able to count on her health, her reliability. Took watching two lovers desperately clinging to one another in the midst of a shower of shrapnel and bullets when he had no one to make him realize how badly he missed being wrapped in her embrace. 

It took night after night of battling heat and grime to make him realize how much he missed home. And it took the realization that he missed home to realize what home was – her home, their home. And he realized that by missing home, it wasn't the walls and the bed and the comforter, but the woman who made home what it was. It took day after day of eating horrendous food and never being able to quench the palpable, painful hunger in his stomach to make him realize that he wasn't hungry for food, but for her touch, her love, for her --- for Abby. 

He didn't quite understand what it was about them and tragedy. As if it wasn't enough that wherever they went, it seemed to befall them and consume them, but it seemed that it also seemed to define them. There was just something to be said about a struggle for life in dire, threatening situations that reformed his love for her, sending it to the surface of his emotional palate with ferocious vigour. Heck, they'd gotten together in the midst of it and here they were now, newly becoming "them" as a result of more of it. 

And it both baffled and comforted him. 

It was regular and expected and new and exciting and tragic and a hindrance all at the same time. At the centre of it all, it was them. They dance, they did, the game they played and would continue to play, he hoped – at least he thought he hoped – for the rest of their time together. Why the two of them couldn't be happy and free from all emotional and physical angst for awhile was beyond him. But he realized, they couldn't, and no one can. 

When life throws you lemons, make lemonade. 

And they had, they really had. Against all odds, here he was, alive – living, breathing, happy. And she, lying beside him, so close that she was practically on top of him; their fingers interlaced, their legs locking, skin to skin, heart to heart. Her loose hand draped lackadaisically across his him, tracing deliberately arbitrary patterns across his bare chest. At some point, he hadn't noticed when, she'd taken off his shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin against her. 

And it felt like they were getting what they both wanted, finally. There was an understanding between them, realized in his few simple words, that they had all the time in the world to work things out. What they needed now, was each other, just as they were. 

~~

Through the curtained window, the last plaintive strands of moon-kissed light bled into the small bedroom. He'd awoken from a light but contented sleep just moments ago, pulled from slumber by the tender touch of some unforeseen force of beauty and allure. 

And as his eyes were carefully drawn open by the slender figures of this delightful foe, he saw a sight more beautiful than the angelic wings that had driven him from his comfortable sleep.

Abby. Arms and legs helplessly tangled in the thin white sheet, head of mussed brown tendrils resting carefully on the pillowcase. Her eyes, two brown orbs filled with questions, intently gazing into his. 

He smiled, allowing their eyes a short rendezvous before breaking the gaze for a glance to the table beside the bed. Luminous numbers jumped out at his eyes as he stared over at the clock. It was nearly 4:00 A.M. After a pause, he returned his gaze to her, still reclined with one knee up under the blanket and an arm sprawled above her head. He rolled closer, laying his head down onto her breast. She brought her arms down and rested her hands in his hair, running them through his short strands.

"So tell me about it." She asked, lightly running her fingers through his short hair. 

He chuckled. "Where should I start?"

"Wherever you want."

"It was an eye opener. Before, things here that I thought were bad don't even compare ..."

"I can only imagine."

"After awhile, you come to the realization that the little things shouldn't get you down. It's not worth it."

"What about the big things?"

"You can't get down about them either. Especially if they're important to you."

"So you're glad you did this?"

"Yeah." He paused for a minute. "You know, the last day I was there, I had a gun pointed at my head, and all I could think about was you."

She took in an alarmed breath as he said it. "John ..."

"... And I realized that I should appreciate everything I have, because it could be gone, in an instant. I don't want to go through life knowing that something amazing could have happened with us, and we missed out on that because we were too stubborn to work things out. I don't want everything to be gone without knowing I had the full benefit of it. I know it's not always going to be that way, but it can be that way a lot more, can't it? "

"It can."

"Abby?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"Do you really?"

Her face crinkled into a soft smile, laced with some sort of intangible emotion, a deep seeded regret or longing that barred the smile from reaching her smile. This man meant the world to her, was her world. And yet, something held her back, that final barrier she'd yet to cross with any man with true conviction; like giving up a piece of herself. 

He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. He figured he could allow her a moment to mull over the implications, while at the same time proving that what he had told her was one hundred percent genuine. And in that moment when their lips moulded together, he felt his world begin to unravel at the seams. He wrapped his arms around her and let them sink into each other. Despite his passion to make her believe he was sincere, there was still a nagging thought in the back of his brain that made his stomach twist. When it was all over and done, would she say it back?

In that split second of indecision, she considered all they'd been through and all they would surely have yet to overcome. It was worth it. In the same moment, she crossed the barrier. Made a conscious decision to devote herself to him, to give up that little piece of herself. And she signed the unwritten contract, swam the final mile. 

As they parted and she murmured his words back. "I love you too."

She put her arms around him and they cuddled up together, just enjoying being close to each other once again. They sat in silence, watching the strands of sunlight intermingled between the curtains begin to enter the room, filling it with a warm, yellow glow. 

And there they lay, asleep in each other's arms, until the last traces of night finally faded into day. 

The End


End file.
